Close Calls
by cagd
Summary: Jackie, a database manager, is moving to St. Louis. Too bad she hired Proincias Cassidy, aka Cass, to help her. Preacher
1. Handshakes and Fisticuffs

**Jackie **

"So, yeh must be Jackie. I'm Cass." The man that my brother Robbie had sent to help me finish packing and drive with me from New York to St. Louis gargled as he thrust out one grubby paw in my direction and grinned at me from behind several days growth of neon red beard and a pair of cheap sunglasses. Jammed down over his eyebrows was one of those sat-upon looking flat Irish caps. He must have walked up from the subway three blocks over because water dripped slowly onto the lobby floor of my building from his long black overcoat, a reminder of the miserable winter rain that had been coming down all day.

His hand smelled like a damp ashtray. Come to think of it, so did the rest of him.

Good God! The old neighborhood must have somehow found out that I was coming home and had sent me a peace offering. Why on Earth couldn't it have been a toaster oven? I could have used one of those!

Reluctantly I shook his hand. "Jackie, Jackie Connell." He had a grip like a vise. "Sorry to keep you waiting so long down here in the lobby," I said as I pulled my hand free and discreetly wiped it on the side of my slacks. I led him over to the front desk. "When Selma the evening receptionist called up to let me know you'd arrived, I was in the middle of something and couldn't come down right away to sign you in as my guest."

"Don't worry, wee_ bitch_ what guards th' door was kind enough t' let me stay in out of th' rain until yeh came down t' claim me." Cass said loudly as he leaned against the front desk. Selma gave him a dirty look while handing me the guest forms. He returned her scowl with an easygoing grin while slowly rolling an unlit cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other. He edged closer, putting one hand on my shoulder. "Seh, lass, how much shite yeh got t' move then? Little or lot, aye?" God, my ears _weren't_ decieving me; this man really _was_ everything that I've spent most of my adult life fleeing.

Robbie was dead when I got back to St. Louis.

Unable to say anything civil beyond, "Not much, I just need someone to help me with the driving." as I pulled away from him, I began filling out the guest form. After completing my own personal information, I looked up to ask Cass what his last name was just in time to see him digging a cheap plastic lighter out of one pocket, "This is a non..."

"Is it. aye?" Was all Cass said to me from the corner of his mouth as he lit up while facing the large "No Smoking" sign prominantly displayed on the counter in a brushed steel frame.

_"Sir!"_ Before I could finish telling him to put it out, Selma leaned over the barrier and held out an ashtray towards him at arm's length with a look of disgust on her heavily made-up face, "Sir, this is a smoke free building —put that out immediately!"

"Aye?" Cass looked at me, one eyebrow cocked. I frowned back, he shrugged and pinched the cigarette out between the finger and the thumb of his free hand without even removing it from his mouth, "Suit yehself, miss." The elevator door slid open discharging one of the other tenants. I grabbed Cass firmly by the elbow and steered us both into its relative safety; leaving Selma glaring at us over the ashtray, the forms incomplete.

We rode up to the top floor in silence, Cass with his hands jammed deep into his overcoat pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels while I tried to pretend that this "gift" my brother had sent me had nothing to do with me as my soon to be _former_ neighbors stepped in and out, staring at us both without actually looking. I'd lived here a little over three years and I still didn't know who any of them were.

Funny thing was, at this point, I didn't really care whether I did or not.

I unlocked the door to my condo. Cass sauntered in after me like the big orange tomcat I'd had as a little girl back in St. Louis, heavy motorcycle boots leaving dirty wet tracks all over what had once been my white front hall carpet despite the fact that he'd wiped his feet on the mat without me even asking. Though it was now well past seven on a rainy evening, he still hadn't removed his sunglasses.

Great, someone with a fixation on _U2's_ Bono.

When I'd called my big brother Robbie this morning to let him know that I was coming home on such short notice because I'd taken a new job in St. Louis that started in two weeks, all he'd said was, "Aw Jacks, you can't drive all that way alone. Think of all the crazies on the highways these days! None of us can come out and help you right now on such short notice, but hey! I've got a friend out there, name's Cass! Cass is thinking of moving to St. Louis. I bet Cass'd be happy to help you load your stuff up and keep you from falling asleep behind the wheel and killing yourself. I'll send Cass right over. Cass'll take care of everything."

Now "Cass" was in my condo, clashing with everything as he looked the place over, doubtlessly wondering how much he could get for my stereo from his fence. Though I hate the stuff with a passion, I really could have used a beer right about then.

Ahhhhhh, _beer_.

Beer was at the root of it all, really.

Even when I was small, all I ever really wanted was a life that didn't smell like the Budweiser plant that loomed over and perfumed our little working-class Irish American neighborhood.

I did _not_ want to work for Budweiser when I grew up.

Nor did I want to marry a Budweiser employee and give birth to five or more future Budweiser employees.

I was tired of red hair, red noses, and St. Pat's celebrations that always got out of hand.

I was embarrassed by my cousins and their brawling at family gatherings.

I was tired of being teased at school for having undeniably red hair that smelled of beer no matter how many times I washed it.

So, I shut everybody out, studied hard, discovered computer programming, and made it into M.I.T. on full scholarship where I specialized in Oracle databases.

It paid off : I was snapped up by a consulting firm even before I graduated and immedieatly began pulling down a huge annual income. Suddenly I could afford the right car, the right clothes, the right hair...the right friends. Best of all, none of it smelled like beer or sounded like a fourth generation Irish-American punk who'd had one too many.

Six months ago it all blew up in my face when the large brokerage firm I had a five year contract with became the victim of a hostile takeover, leaving me and a whole lot of other people out on the street with cancelled contracts and miniscule severance packages. Now I was fleeing back to St. Louis with my tail between my legs to take a job that I really didn't want because far as I could tell, I had no choice because the shitty economy had put a lot of people like me out on the street and the competition was fierce.

"So lass, yeh got anythin' to drink?" Cass said as he stepped out into the middle of my sitting area, neck craned as he looked up at the high ceiling of my reclaimed industrial space condo with it's overhead constellation of steel framed skylights and began peeling off his coat and scarf after dropping his holdall onto the floor with a thump beside the white raw silk upholstered couch. "Fuck me sideways, but I nearly froze me arse off out there in all that rain! Be a good girl and give us somethin' to warm us up then, will yeh?" Underneath his coat was a grubby blue Batman t-shirt and a jean jacket with the sleeves ripped off exposing a set of what resembled tightly knotted ropes more than they did human arms. Cass then removed his hat and tossed it on top of his coat, exposing a flaming mass of unruly red spikes that could _perhaps_ be called hair. He ran his fingers through it, increasing the chaos. "How 'bout it, aye?"

"What? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention." I set aside my angry self-pity and sidled past him into the kitchen area, getting a strong whiff of alcohol, tobacco, and...raw meat? as I did so. _"My God, what a stink,"_ I muttered underneath my breath, _"When's the last time this guy took a bath?" _

Cass swiveled his head around and looked at me, his look of scruffy good nature gone.

Uh oh, did he hear me say that? I blushed. As much as I didn't appreciate Cass being the way he was, he _had_ voluntered to help me move on short notice.

_"I said, have yeh got anythin' to drink 'round here?"_

Whew! I guess he hadn't. "There's mineral water and Diet Coke in the 'fridge if you want it," Then I added, "And espresso if you know how to work the machine." Still smarting over my earlier indiscretion, I pointed towards the refrigerator as I attempted to flee back into my bedroom to finish packing.

Cass snagged me by the sleeve with one big knuckled hand as I shot past him, "I mean, _have yeh's got anythin' to drink?_" He looked sour under his coating of stubble.

"My ex took all that with him when he moved out two weeks ago."

"_Jaysis!_" was all Cass said as he released me and ambled around to the front of the couch, "Wha' bollicky thing to do to anybody!" He landed on it in a practiced slouch and put his feet up on the coffee table; the one that Paolo had bought the day I lost my job. He then relit the remains of the extinguished cigarette that still dangled negligently from his lower lip and looked up at me in an exhalation of smoke with his hands shoved in his pockets. "Yeh want I should beat th' wee bastard up for yeh? Give us his address an' Cass'll do it for yeh f' free, aye?" He looked hopeful behind his sunglasses and stubble.

"Welllll," Tempting, but not a good idea. I sat down on the edge of the long kitchen counter that divided the main room into two separate spaces and drummed my heels thoughtfully against the blonde mahogany doors, something that Paolo had always hated me doing. I put a little more vigor into my drumming knowing that it would annoy my former fiance to no end if he knew what I was doing and he wasn't there to stop me. Cass's smoking was just icing on the cake. Paolo hated smokers almost as much as he hated fat people. "...believe me, it's just not worth it." I said.

"Suit yehself pet, but me offer stands should yeh ever change yeh mind." Cass shrugged again as he aimed a long stream of bluish smoke up at the high ceiling after grinding the old cigarette out on the heel of one of his boots. He paused in the middle of dropping the extinguished butt onto the floor and looked up at me apologetically. "Eh, I'm forgettin' me manners, d'ye mind?" For an answer, I tipped fifty dollars worth of high-end potpourri onto the floor from the Waterford crystal dish that Paolo had forgotten to take with him when he'd dumped me for Philippe the prissy balding internet day trader, and tossed it to Cass to use for an ashtray from where I sat. He caught it one handedly, "Thanks lass, dried up hag downstairs an' her fuckin' signs can't see what I'm doin' seh fuck her!"

I slid off the counter and resumed packing in my bedroom, leaving Cass cooling his heels and watching old movies on AMC. I almost envied him, as far as I could tell, all he had facing him was a long drive across the Midwest, not a job in a city I had vowed never to return to.

Oh right, the job. In St. Louis? With Budweiser? Maintaining their computerized inventory system? Which was supposed to save my relationship with Paolo?

Yeah, right. When Bruce called to give me the news that he'd finally got me a job worth having, I was not terribly nice about it when I found out where it was and who it was with. I kicked. I screamed. Bruce ignored me: he was used to me by now. Maybe that's why it took me so long to get back in the saddle: I'd burned too many bridges over the years at Paolo's behest in order to "get ahead".

I screamed some more at Bruce and then hung up.

I finally agreed to take the job half an hour later when the men from the bank reposessed my BMW. That was two weeks ago. It was also the same day that I recieved a call from Paolo bitching at me because the men from the bank had also repossesed his BMW out of the Bally's parking lot where he worked - I had given it to him for his birthday last year and was still paying for it with money I no longer had. And oh, by the way, we needed to talk.

Huh?

Did I mention earlier that my long time live-in decided to come out to me with his new boyfriend, Philippe, in attendance two weeks ago —the same day I accepted the job with Budweiser in St. Louis?

When I told Paolo that things were going to be all right again, that I had a job, that we could go ahead and get married on schedule, all he said was, "Too bad sweetie, I don't care if you're working for Bill Gates himself as his own personal cock-sucker. This time I'm in really love and it isn't with you!" Paolo then went on to tell me that even if he hadn't fallen in love with Philippe, it would be a cold day in hell should he ever move from the Big Apple to the middle of Nowhere, especially with someone as stupid as me.

At this point I recovered from my shock long enough to throw our silver framed engagement photo at Paolo's head. In keeping with the rest of my luck for the last six months, Paolo ducked and it hit Philippe squarely in the face, breaking his nose.

Philippe's lawyer contacted me the next day and we decided that Paolo and Philippe would accept my condo, as well as most of the furnishings in lieu of a lawsuit that I couldn't even begin to afford to contest, much the less _pay_. This sounds really stupid of me now, but at the time relinquishing everything I'd acumulated during the last three years. aside from my clothes and computer equipment, seemed more cost effective even if I was still paying most of it off in installments.

* * *

Two six packs of Diet Coke later it was nearly dawn and I was still stuffing garbage bags with a lot of designer clothing that Paolo had insisted I buy even though I personally didn't care for most it. He said that they would help me get ahead. 

Ha!

Speaking of things I didn't care for, I found my wedding gown shoved into the back of my walk-in closet. Paolo picked that out for me too. I threw the dress out onto the middle of the sitting area floor, all $10,000 worth of it. Pettiness aside, walking on all that handmade lace while coming and going was extremely satisfying.

Cass watched me from where he was infesting my former couch, boots still up on the glass coffee table, bottle in his hand, surrounded by a dense haze of cigarette smoke. Somehow he'd found the only wine that Paolo had missed taking when he'd left. Watching that unshaven thug pouring five hundred dollar's worth of imported French wine down his throat like beer in between puffs contributed to my mood of perverse satisfaction. _Plus_ he was leaving smudges on the couch for Paolo's boyfriend Philippe to fume over.

I sat down beside Cass as he sent the last of the wine down his throat in one heroic pull.

Finally he came up loudly gasping for air, wiping his mouth on the back of his arm, "Fuckin' brilliant! Got any more, aye?" Cass then flashed me a smile that was almost all teeth. They were very white and perfectly straight —unusual in such a blatant product of socialized medicine. I found such order in the midst of so much disorder unsettling.

"I told you: my ex got it all." I stood up again as I turned off the television with the remote. I peeked out the window through the curtains. Sometime during the night the rain had turned to snow.

"Wha' fuckin' bastard." Cass dropped the bottle to the floor where it rolled under the couch as he finished off yet another cigarette.

I yawned, scrubbing at my eyes. "Ready to go? I need help getting the rest of my stuff into the U-Haul and then that's it." I tossed the remote over my shoulder. Where it landed, I didn't care. Let the two darling lovebirds search for the damned thing after they took over the place and turned it into their new lovenest.

"Now see here, lass," Cass stood up and looked at me through his sunglasses, "Yeh've been at it since I got here. I'm tired, yeh tired. We don't want any accidents, now do we?" He pulled a squashed pack of unfiltered Camels out of his jacket pocket and offered me one. I waved him off, noticing that he'd filled up the Waterford dish nearly to overflowing with butts. He lit up, adding further to his personal weather system. "Now, as I were sayin', 's been a long night for both of us. I say we dosses down for a little while and make a fresh start of it tomorrow evenin' to miss traffic, aye?"

"No." I folded my arms. "If you're tired, you can always sleep while I drive."

He blew out a fresh cloud of foul blue smoke and looked up at the brightening skylights overhead, fidgeting again like he had last night in the elevator, "That's bollicks, lass! I'm tired, yeh tired. we should rest up a bit under a roof while we can...now who the fuck's that outside yeh front door rattlin' keys this early in the mornin'? Th' bloody landlord wantin' his rent?"

"Excuse me?" I didn't hear anything. And I certainly hadn't been notified on the intercom of any visitors.

There was only one other set of keys to this place that could get past Selma, or Billie, the daytime receptionist. Paolo's. My stomach began to knot up. Cass looked at me questioningly, eyebrows knotting over the rims of his shades. "Yeh want me t' deal with 'em?"

"No. It's just my ex." Oh God, why now? I'd told him I'd be out by midnight last night and I was still here. Paolo and my replacement stepped into the front hall. I walked over to meet them at the door, steeling myself for..for..for whatever they had in store for me this time.

"Selma's right, _she's_ still here." Philippe honked from his heavily bandaged broken nose while he fastidiously wiped his Italian-made shoes on the mat before pushing past me, "Vincent, you _said_ she'd be gone before we had the decorators in." He pulled a tape measure from the pocket of his bomber jacket and began measuring the wall where the engagement photo in its heavy silver frame had once hung before he caught it with his face. "Did you know that I just bought every available share of Enron stock yesterday, so to celibrate, I went ahead and paid for a complete remodeling job by Sven!"

Did I mention earlier that in addition to being a lousy ducker, Philippe was a _very_ successful internet day trader? He easily made three times what I made even before I lost my job. And that was just on the bad days!

"_Jacqueline_, I'm _shocked_. Is this your new _boyfriend_? I didn't know you liked rough stuff." Paolo sounded bored as he hung his coat on the Art Noveau hat rack I'd given him for Christmas last year. "Selma didn't do him justice! O_h, never mind_, what's more important than what's dirtying up my condo is that you _promised _us you'd be out by last midnight. Why are you still _here_? Philippe and I want to have this place livable by spring so we can move in!" Paolo paused, distracted by the sight of the overflowing Waterford on the coffee table, "My _God_ Jackie! Has he been _smoking_ in here? You're _dumber_ than I thought; this is a non-smoking building, you could get us voted _out_ by the Committee should someone smell it!"

"Is this the wanker yeh was gonna marry?" Cass gestured in disbelief at my ex with his cigarette before I could respond to Paolo, "Wha' fuckin' ponce!" There was a dangerous roll to his hips as he sauntered over to stand beside me, thumbs loosely hooked into his front belt loops.

Philippe flapped his hands at Cass from where he had begun measuring the kitchen counter tops. "Paolo, tell her she has to leave; tell her to leave _right now_ and take _it_ with her!"

"Ms. Connell, all I have to do is make one call to our lawyer and ...what the hell?" Though I hadn't really seen him move, Cass was now right up in Paolo's face with Paolo's shirt bunched up in one fist. Even though Paolo was nearly a foot taller and heavier than Cass, he was on the tips of his toes as Cass casually lifted him by the collar. "Put me down or I'll have Philippe call the police." he sputtered.

"I have my cell phone right here, don't make me use it!" Philippe squealed. He was already dialing as he rushed around the counter to Paolo's aid. Cass turned his head and glanced at the pudgy little day trader dismissivly before taking his cigarette out of his mouth, tucking it behind his ear and giving Paolo the finger with his free hand. The move was so fast, so practiced that I didn't see the transition from hand to mouth to ear to bird. "Eat this, faggot!"

Philippe's mouth dropped open. "Paolo, you can't let him call you that!"

"If you don't leave immedieatly," Paolo's affected boredome was long gone: "We'll have you _both_ arrested for trespassing." I moved toward them, in a stupid attempt to head off what felt like the beginnings of a genuine physical confrontation.

"Go ahead _boyo_, I'd like to see yeh buggers try!" Cass' tone was light and pleasant, almost sing-song. Was he actually enjoying this dance? "Bumboy? Yeh up to it? Aye ponce?" He released Paolo's collar and took a step towards Philippe who cringed

"You can't speak to him like that!" Paolo, now free, took a swing, which Cass, while producing another grin that showed every tooth down to his molars, easily sidestepped . We all sort of dance-shoved-sidled around the sitting area. Paolo's blustering, Philippe's honking whine, and some of the filthiest street sewage I'd ever heard outside of my own family pouring from Cass's mouth and echoing down from the high ceiling.

"Paolo, beat him up for calling me a...bumboy?" Philippe was hanging on Paolo's arm, half hiding behind my ex as Cass took a go at them both. Paolo tripped over the hassock. Cass was flushed and obviously enjoying himself as we all went down into a struggling, swearing heap on top of my wedding dress. The restored Victorian fainting couch went over with a rolling thud followed by a rattle and a bang when the small rack of miniature Japanese teapots that had pride of place on the coffee table fell over, showering us all with limited edition raku fired crockery.

Finally I managed to disengage myself from the fracas, picked up the potpourri dish turned ashtray, raised it over my head, screamed "Enough!" and threw it against the reclaimed oak floor where the vintage Persian carpet didn't cover it..

The heavy crystal shattered on impact, sounding like a small bomb going off. Ash and butts blew up in a grey cloud, settling on everyone and everything.

The strugggling mass froze; they all looked up and stared at me. Philippe's toupée was hanging from his scalp by a few hairs. Paolo's nose was dribbling blood all over what was left of his shirt.

Cass's sunglasses were still on; he wasn't even breathing heavily.

In fact, he was now sitting on Paolo's chest, elbow raised high, fist cocked and ready to smash down into Paolo's face for the fifth time.

"Who owns this place for five more days?" I screamed.

Paolo looked at Philippe who was now trying to straighten his hairpiece. He looked back at me, nose dribbling redly over his lip, "Ahhhhhh...you do, Jackie?"

"Right." I picked up Cass's lighter and the packet of Camels that had somehow managed to stay on the coffee table throughout the entire brawl. I pulled a crumpled butt out, straightened it with shaking hands and lit up. "And who owns all the furniture for five more days?"

"You do?" Philippe honked. His eyes were rapidly developing two bruised rings from where Cass had socked him a double. Funny, without his rug and with those black eyes, he now looked that jackass George Castanza from _Seinfeld_. Why hadn't I noticed that earlier?

"Right." I took a drag on the butt and nearly choked. I blew out a mouthful of smoke. "And who wants you off her property right now?""

"You do?" Philippe spoke up nervously. "But Paolo said that..."

"I don't give a damn what Paolo says, I want both of you out of my sight, _now!_ And if you don't..."

Paolo interrupted me, "There's no need to shout, Jackie. Come along Philippe, we have better things to do than argue with this whore and her piece of Belfast street tra...aaaaaaaa-thunk-aaaaaaaaaa-thunk-aaaaaaaaa!" Paolo screamed as Cass bunched up my ex's collar and began methodically banging his head on the floor.

"It's DUBLIN, yeh stupid fuckin' hoor, DUBLIN, not BELFAST and I'll thump th' shite outta yeh's until yeh's knows th' difference yeh stupid wee bollicks!"

"Stop it, stop it!" I grabbed Cass by the back of his jacket. "You'll kill him!"

"Yer call lass!" Cass grunted as I stumbled over the bunched up carpet and nearly landed on top of Philippe who was too busy wheezing while rubbing cigarette ashes out of his eyes to do more than squeal indignantly, Cass landed another one on Paolo before adding, "Yeh want me to do it fast r' slow?"

"This isn't the way to settle...this sort of thing. I'm in enough trouble as it is without you adding your spoon to the batter, stop it!" I struggled to get a firmer grip on Cass so I could pull him off of Paolo, who slithered out from under Cass. The next thing I knew I had taken Paolo's place. Let me tell you, Cass was heavier than he appeared at first glance!

In the end, Philippe took Paolo by the arm and yanked him to his feet and out of Cass's reach, giving me a venomous look as he did so. "You'll be hearing from our lawyer!"

"Yeh just try that, yeh daft wee ejit!" Cass squashed me in his efforts to struggle to his feet, I wrapped my legs around his waist and held on for dear life as he lashed out with both booted feet, catching Philippe squarely in the guts.

The little broker staggered backwards onto the glass coffee table, which dissolved with a crash of safety glass.

"That's it," Philippe snarled once he'd caught his breath, "You'll really will be hearing from our lawyer, bitch!"

Cass yelled, "You can't call the lady that! Lemme up, lemme up! I'll teach tha' wee bastard some manners!"

The cigarette was still sticking to my lower lip and I got an elbow in the side as Cass lurched to his feet, me clinging to his back, both of us in the middle of a pile of shattered glass atop the remains of my wedding dress.

I wanted to let go. I couldn't let go. I didn't dare let go!

"Come on, Paolo darling, we're leaving!"

They left without even bothering to take their coats.

"Don't let the door hit yeh on the arse on the way out!" Cass screamed after them.

The door slammed shut with a bang.

Cass stood there with me still clinging to his back, watching the door, head cocked to one side. He was up on the balls of his feet, moving with nervous little twitches and jerks, radiating barely leashed excitement. The muscles of his shoulders and back almost seemed to crackle with static electricity.

I think he was enjoying himself.

"Silly fuckin' bags-o'-shite comin' inta a lady's home like that-an' causin' trouble I showed _them_ what's-what!" Cass snarled as he fished the cigarette, uncrushed and miraculously still lit out from behind his ear and took a contemplative drag, "Hang on! Lass, what'cha doing back there?" The cigarette paused in mid arc as he looked over his shoulder at me.

I winced, his breath could have peeled paint, "I, I." my voice came out as a squeak, "I can't let go."

"Here, 's'much as I enjoy yeh holdin' on to me like that," His voice softened a little, "Yeh can't stay back there forever." He pried my fingers from his jacket and eased me to the ground one handedly.

Cass then took the cigarette out of my mouth, looked at it briefly before putting it into his, absently grinding the old one out on the carpet with one booted heel, "Yeh don't _really_ smoke these things d'yeh lass? They'll fuckin' kill yeh. I should know!"

"How'd you guess?" I slithered sideways on the loose glass and he steadied me, easing me down onto the remains of the couch.

"When yeh was actin' tough, I couldn't help but notice yeh turnin' green on yeh first puff; but I don't think that the fancy bollicks's an' his bumboy did. Yeh secret's safe with me!" He kicked at the remains of the coffee table before flopping down next to me, one arm draped companionably over my shoulder, "Helluva fight lass, helluvafight!" On the end of that arm was the hand that was holding his cigarette, Cass angled around to take another puff, so that his face rubbed against mine and I was mashed against his body.

Ugh. I disentangled myself by removing his arm from my shoulder like it was a dead animal. "I don't care what your plans are for the next few hours, I don't even care if they send the cops after us for assault. Regardless of what anyone says or does, I'm going to clean up and take a nap. We'll hit the road after lunch." I stood up wiping at my cheek; it felt like I had just had an up close and personal encounter with a "Welcome" mat.

"Yer call, lass." Cass slid a booted toe under the hem of my ruined wedding dress and lifted it a bit, "Sorry about yeh pretty dress, but it couldn'a be helped when I went after the wee bastard to teach him his place. But why was yeh walkin' on it to begin with...?" He looked up nervously at the overhead skylights as he rose to join me.

"Forget it, I never liked the stupid thing anyway." I felt the broken glass from the coffee table begin to shift under my feet. Cass planted a hand in the small of my back to steady me as I made my way through the wreckage towards my room.

I only realized that Cass'd followed me when I turned to close my bedroom door and he was blocking it just by standing behind me."You can tear up my condo and beat up my ex any time, but that's as far as it goes. If you want a bed, you can always sleep on the couch or in Paolo's room; I'm sure he wouldn't mind one more strange man in there!"


	2. All Stirred Up With No Place To Go

**Cass **

The look on her face were priceless when Jackie came down into lobby and sees me standin' there.

It were like she'd just stepped in dogshite, so I says to meself, "Cass, lad, maybe this weren't such a good idea after all."

But she took me upstairs to her flat, and that were a start.

Her place were posh, real posh, like inna magazine or a movie - all white - walls, rugs and furniture.

I suddenly felt a wee bit conspicuous in me big boots an' coat drippin on her good rugs. Maybe this wasn't such a fuckin' brilliant idea after all?

Then she up an' abandons me to fuckin' _Perrier an' crappucino_ - says she's got to pack or summat and we needed to be out before midnight.

Wait up, yeh don't know what the fuck I'm talkin' about, does yeh?

Well, I'll tell yeh how it started.

It started down in a little bar down on, never-yeh-mind! Let's just say it started in a bar on a Friday night not long after I got up 'round sundown. I were sittin' w' me seventh pint a' Becks and a rare steak f' company. That's when the phone rings.

The barkeep says, "Big Mamma Cass? Phone!"

Now, I don't likes to judge, but Big Mamma Cass be unnatural, an' not because she were a diesel dyke and a fuckin' vegetarian! She weighed a'least thirty stone and were bigger than most men! Her voice were like a man's too, an' she smelled.

So, she picks up the phone and I can't help but overhear even in the din from the jukebox an' the Friday night crush - 's all part ah me condition yeh know.

Seems she had a friend what had a wee sister what got dumped by a good f' nuttin' dago an she wants'ta move back home to St. Louis to take a job with Budweiser. Would Big Mamma wanna ride with her seein' as she were thinkin' 'bout moving there anyway?

Budweiser? Ahhhh, says I, now there's a wee bit of fun. Why should it be wasted on a woman wi' thighs bigger 'round than me chest and what smells like feet an' dirty laundry? She's Cass, I'm Cass, but this Cass is gonna get the prize! Seh wha' if Budweiser is close to fuckin' water, beer is beer! An if the wee sister's pretty, wha-hey-hey!

'Sides, I needs to leave town in a hurry, non-ah yeh business why, an' a wee bit a company on the trip wouldn't hurt!

Then the bastard on the other side a' the phone gives the wee sister's address an' number an' I writes it down on a matchbook.

So does Big Mamma Cass.

What to do?

So I picks her pocket an' steals her copy of the address in the crush. Then I starts a fight leavin' Big Mamma Cass in the middle of things while I sneaks out the back door once the cops show up and shower everyone in sight wi' nightsticks an' mace.

Never could stand that mace shite, burns the eyes right out of me face. Leaves me blind an hurts like hell an' they takes _days_ to grow back.

A right pain in the arse is mace...where was I?

'Twere a shame, to leave a good fight before gettin' in me fair share o' teeth and slat kickin's, but I had a job to do.

Oh right, before I took the subway, I also pushes Big Mamma Cass's car a few feet over in front of a fire hydrant and then stuck me switchblade inna back tires f' good measure in case the cops didn't do the job f' me - I figured that would hold her until me an' the wee sister's clean outta town!

I gets off subway, then walks three blocks in fuckin' miserable rain, an' I know I've been here before though things have changed a wee bit in eighty years or seh. Yeah, I'm older than I look, aye? Yeh wouldn't believe me if I told yeh how much older so I won't waste me time tellin' yeh then!

Where was I? Aye, right!

Shite, I knew tha' neighborhood felt familiar! Th' buildin' Jackie's livin' in was a mattress factory back in the 20s tha' Cass used to be night watchman for when he wasn't diggin subway tunnels. Tha' place were a doddle - Cass'd make his rounds, then doss down on stack a mattresses an' smoke - any wanker what broke in to steal tools an' shite were a bonus once I got me hands on him! Now th' place was a place f' rich ejits to have posh big flats in. "Seh," I says to mesel', "Not only is this bit a' fanny workin' f' Budweiser in th' near future, she's rich! Cass, yeh lucky motherfucker, yeh've hit gold. Jaysis but I hope she don't have a face like th' back end a baboon in flu season!"

Seh, I tells th' piss faced receptionist guardin th' front lobby t' call up on intercom an' let me Jackie know tha' Cass were here. Aye, all these posh places be locked up tight so yeh can't get in unless yeh either know someone or get nasty wi' crowbar. She answers, an' hey, she doesn't sound ugly, seh our fears maybe were groundless?

Then herself comes down to let us in. And she's not half bad, slim, 'bout Cass' size, and fuck me sideways, she smells fantastic! (Too bad she's flat-chested, though, I likes a lass wi' shelf to lean on!)

Fuck, she's frigid! Ah, owd Cass take care a that once she gets t' know him.

Seh, up the elevator we go t' her place (which I described for yeh earlier), but then, _then_ she leaves me to that fuckin' shite crappucino and mineral water, can yeh believe the cruelty a' that? I almost told her t' piss off an' leave - but it were rainin' out there, an' miserable cold, seh I let it pass an' spend a quiet night watchin' movies on cable that I remember payin' a nickle t' see when they first come out - fuck, there's worse way t' kill time on a bad night, believe me!

Things began t' look up when I poke 'round in th' fridge an find a bottle a' froggie wine, the good shite, and she catches me at it. "Uh oh. Cass," says I to meself, "Y'done it now." But instead she hands me an ashtray which is a little bit a' all right there, and tells me that her ex took all the booze. Shite, no wonder she's frigid!

Speak of the devil, the bastard shows up wi' his boyfriend an' starts blowin' smoke.

I knows all about that kind, nice an respectable during the day, what goes poncin' 'bout bars at night all toughlike in studded black leather lookin' f' a bit of the rough stuff in th' alley out behind. Hit 'em once an' they folds up like a wet newspaper. Not that I would know anything about that shite, yeh know!

Anyway, he an' his bumboy starts in on me bird, yeh, me bird, because I'da decided already, bitchy an' stingy as she were, Jackie were worth wooin' even if it were for a short time on account o' her bein' a class act an' workin for a brewery. Cass don't get access to posh fanny all that often, an' I could already tell that she were startin' to thaw out in me general direction when she give me that ashtray - Cass doesn't mind a little extra work if the goal's in plain sight, yeh see?

So I restrains meself an' merely lightly mops the floor with both fuckers when I could'a killed both easy with one light caress from the back'a me hand - an' me right glad to do it too. Can't stand the rich ones what think they own everythin' in sight and what hangs 'round in bars hopin' to get lucky - _if yeh's wankers seh great, how comes yeh has the pay for it?_

Seh, afterwards, I thinks, "Cass, yer _in: _she clings on yeh back like a limpet, an' even tries to pull yeh out of the fight just when it's gettin' good - she wants yeh bad, she does, she does!" An the ciggie? I could taste her when I took the one she'd lit up and put in her mouth to tell ejit #1and ejit #2 where they could put it all - so sweet I wants the whole package to meself!

Jackie's so rattled she cancels our early departure, which is just as well 'cause the sun were comin' up fast and me condition doesn't like that as yeh well know. So I follows her into her bedroom like a good lad for me hard earned reward for takin' care of things seh proper w'out bein' even asked.

_What the fuck?_

She turns 'round, gives me the stinkeye and bids me sleep in tha' ponce Paolo's bedroom!

_What'd Cass do wrong?_

Then she locks' th' fuckin' door, leavin' owd Cass out in th' cold.

Ah, why argue? Tain't worth it! Not when fuckin' skylights be getting brighter an' brighter. Seh, I goes into Paolo's room, hopin' the room has no skylights and at least some curtains t' shut out th' light.

I goes in and about sneezes me fuckin' head off - the ejit's room is one big cologne puddle, enough t' make yehs wanna puke! Cass thought Paolo-bugger stank with the shite when he was beatin' dents in the floor wi' his head, but his room? Fuck me sideways! Th' bugger must bathe in the stuff! An' th' smell of all those other men on mattress brings back too many bad memories f' owd Cass - who can sleep in all tha' stink?

Well, more work f' owd Cass, he finds a spare john - brilliant! Not one bloody window, an th' door locks seh Cass doesn't have worry about some stupid bollicks openin' th' door at high noon and watchin' Cass blow up like Semtex th' moment th' sun hits him.

Seh after washin' out me socks an' other stuff in sink, I lies there in the dark in the tub in Jackie's spare bathroom atop me sleepin' bag an big pile a towels f' paddin' wi' the door locked up tight breakin' the Pope's heart. Hey, even if she gave me th' brush-off, me dick an' balls be scream' an who can sleep wi' all tha' nonsense goin' on down there?

I lays there all easy after the dirty deed be done, smokin' an' listenin' to her in the bedroom.

She's cryin'?

Ah Cass yeh big wanker, I says to meself, fuck this shite! If she'da only let yeh in she wouldn'a be cryin' over that fucker Paolo wossisname an' yeh wouldn't have to be calmin' yourself down all by yeh lonsome. She'd be askin f' more a' wha' yeh keeps in yeh trousers and afterwards yeh both be cuddlin' up all nice an' snug out of the sunlight, with yeh smellin' the perfume in her hair an' all.

An' then, maybe, maybe she'd get teh like yeh a little and let yeh stay, which is somethin' Cass could use, because truth be told, money and beer aside, Cass is more'n a wee bit lonely right now...maybe she'd let yeh stay in her life just a wee bit longer?

Jus' thinkin' 'bout _that_ got me only real friend in this cold owd world stirred up all over again.

So I falls asleep, all stirred up w' no place to go.


	3. Cold Burgers

**Jackie **

I slept through lunch.

I slept through dinner.

If Cass hadn't knocked on my bedroom door, I probably would have slept until breakfast the following day.

It was dark again outside; the last ditch attempt at a New York snowstorm from the previous night was still coming down outside the windows.

He was wearing that annoying hat again. You know, the one that looked like someone had sat on it. Still stubbly, still wearing those stupid sunglasses indoors.

"It's gettin' late, thought yeh'd like to get on with it." He handed me a burger - "Don't know how yeh likes 'em, but I didn't wanna wake yeh before I went out."

There was dried blood on the corner of Cass's mouth. He noticed my stare and wiped it off with the back of his hand, "The big hooer landed one good punch on me gob, but only one!" he grinned nastily. "He won't be doin' _that_ again."

Against my better judgement, I took the burger.

The microwave was already packed deep in the bowels of the U-Haul, so I ate it cold.

Ugh.

Nibbling at breakfast, I wandered around the apartment looking over the previous night's damage.

The sitting area still looked like the aftermath of a tavern brawl.

Lucky I'd had the place soundproofed when I'd moved in five years before on Paolo's recommendation or the cops would have been all over us on a Domestic Disturbance #1.

"Yeh slept in yer clothes. Don't worry, go clean up an' Cass'll put all that shite in the truck." He waved at the last of my bagged possessions.

"Thanks," I mumbled and wandered into the spare bathroom which still had soap in it to take a shower, my last clean towel and fresh clothing over one shoulder.

There was a grubby sleeping bag that I didn't recognize on top of a mound of sheets and towels in in the tub. I tossed it all onto the floor next to Cass's kit, turned on the water, undressed and stepped in, letting the pulsating shower head pummel me into consciousness.

This was going to be a bad one; was there time to make an espresso?

Not if it meant fooling around with the big Italian monstrosity of an espresso machine that Paolo would get after I vacated the apartment for just one lousy cup of fancy coffee. Was there any instant left or had Cass maybe eaten it?

He looked like the kind who would, when he wasn't eating asprin dry like candy the morning after. With a spoon right out of the jar.

Wish I'd found that $500 wine before Cass had.

Why was my last bottle of nail polish remover laying empty in the trash can which I'd just emptied yesterday? And the rubbing alcohol? Come to think of it, where was that big 500 count bottle of genaric asprin that I bought yesterday and left out on the counter?

Who cares.

I turned off the water and stood there, steam rising around me as the last of the water gurgled down the drain. Outside the bathroom, I could hear things being shifted around, then a knock, "Just the bags, aye?"

I grabbed the towel off the back of the toilet and wrapped it around me before answering. For some reason I felt exposed even though I'd locked the door.

"Yes, and the bed. Wait, it's heavy, wait and I'll..." He'd moved off before I could finish.

When I came into my bedroom drying my hair, the bed was gone and Cass was sitting on a window sill, hunched down in his coat and scarf, watching the snow falling through the beam of the nearby security light, smoking.

"I see you got the bed without my help."

Cass jumped a little, looking at me with a disreputable smirk before he pinched out the cigarette and tucked it behind his ear, laughing a little to himself. "I got all the bags too - want any of the other shite?"

I wandered out into the living room with the open kitchen with its wine racks, its industrial sized refrigerator, the entertainment center, the demolished sitting area. I looked up at the Italian tapestries, the folk art from India, the white jade statue of Quan Yin in its glass case.

It was then that I realized though I'd paid for all of this, it had never been mine.

It had always been Paolo's.

I took a coat out of the hall closet.

It wasn't the expensive designer coat that Paolo had insisted I buy last Fall, but a patched Navy pea coat that smelled like mothballs and was now too big for me. It was the coat I'd worn all through college and was same one I'd worn the day I wrote the first check for this place.

Paolo hated it and wanted me to throw it away.

I pulled my eyesore on, buttoned it up, found a pair of frayed gloves in the pockets where I'd left them a little over two years ago, turned and looked back at Cass where he was still roosting on my, no, _Paolo's_ bedroom window sill and said, "Let's get out of here."


	4. Road Food

**Cass**

Jackie, me bird, slept all day through, like me, and then she sleeps when I'm up, not like me. The cupboard's bare an' the box's only got leftover carryout Chinese seh owd even Cass won' touch it for fear of loud an' painful repercussions.

Fuckin' yuppie wankers, too stupid t' keep a bottle of ketchup and raw eggs in the box f' emergancies!

Paolo and Philippe solved that for me.

I found those two hoors lurkin' 'round the parkin' lot after sunset in an expensive German crap crate. Paolo went down easy, so did fuckin' Philippe or whatever his name was - one gentle thump wi' me fist to side of th' head an' I feeds at me leisure after I drives the car out a sight behind a dumpster. Then I drives it to the harbor, sets it alight and pushes the whole bloody mess off the dock with the two queers snuggled up in each other's arms - like a love suicide 'r summat.

Aw hell, even two dead queers got luckier 'n owd Cass!

I picked up a bag ah burgers an' some raw steak an' suchlike along with a couple a bottles - f' trip. Yeh never knows when yeh might get stuck wi' out th' good stuff to keep yeh company.

So I returns an' Jackie's up an gettin' dressed. She's ready to go after I packs the last of her shite in the U-Haul.

She takes one last look 'round her place, all sad an' happylike. Then she says, "Let's get out of here."

I take the first shift - nice and dark, safe yeh know? S' been a while since I were on th' move, good to be movin' it is. Things were gettin' a wee bit too hot f' Cass - a cop in me favorite snacking neighborhhood was startin' to get suspicious when I got careless wi' me last meal three nights ago before I fed from them two bollicks' what I mopped the floor wi'. I knows, I knows, I should'a stuck to rare steaks but I were runnin' low on cash an' that last eejit had both the blood an' the cash I needed t' pay me rent.

'Sides, the wanker had the cheek to make fun of me fuckin' accent!

Now it's midnight and the truck's just crossed into Pennsylvania on I-78. She's asleep against the window in the passenger side; traffic's light an' there's good tunes on the shite radio that came wi' truck.

I don't think Jackie knows that I know she cried all the way outta town wi' her face turned away from me.

I think she's thawin' out a wee bit, aye?

I got two, maybe three days tops, to convince her to see how comfortin' having an Irishman 'round can be when yeh heart's been broken.

I just hopes Cass's zip can hold out that long, is all!


	5. The F Word

**Jackie**

I woke up alone in the cab of the U-Haul with a stiff neck at one of those huge truck plazas somewhere in Eastern Pennsylvania.

It was about three a.m. and semis were pulling in and out all around us. I leaned forward and saw in my side rearview mirror that Cass was refilling the U-Haul's tank.

I sat there in the cab for a few minutes, wondering what I'd done.

In the last 48 hours I'd finally relinquished a man I should have given up on a long time ago but didn't because I was afraid of being alone, watched the tattered remnents of three and a half years of my life go down the toilet, packed up the only mortal remains worth salvaging, witnessed the destruction of a designer living room that I once thought I'd owned, and fled New York in a U-Haul truck with a scruffy booze soaked mick at the wheel.

God has a sick sense of humor.

I looked in the side mirror again and watched Cass, hatless and coatless despite the chilll, leaning against the side of the U-Haul as he waited for the tank to fill. An unlit cigarette dangled negligently from his lower lip and his hair stuck up in all directions. He was still wearing those dumb sunglasses. Granted the sodium lights that lit up the truck plaza like high noon were harsh, but I swear I saw him wearing the things in the full dark of last night as we drove off.

It was a wonder that he hadn't killed us both!

(Not that I really cared at this point.)

I got out, stretching. The air was bitterly cold and smelled of diesel.

"Seh, yeh up then, aye lass?" Cass flashed his teeth at me as he disengaged the pump nozzle, breath condensing in the cutting chill of early morning, then "Ahhhhhh, shite thass cold!" as gasoline spilled all over his jeans. "That were me last pair! Ah well, they'll dry out soon enough, give us some towels aye?"

I handed him a stack of those little blue paper towels you use to clean your car windows with, "Thanks lass, should dry up once we get in the cab." He blotted at his legs, "Yeh want anythin' while we're here?"

"No...well, coffee maybe." I said, but I doubted he heard me because six Harley riders pulled up beside us, engines drowning out everything around me.

They were women.

Big, burly women.

One of them was staring at him, the blank surface of her visor turned intently in his direction. By the discreet pink triangles decorating the gear of the entire group, I doubt that her interest was anything more than the novelty of seeing a seedy looking Irishman blotting at his own legs and swearing, ass high in the air and hair in all directions.

Giggling, I climbed back into the cab to get out of the cold. Maybe Robbie had been right to saddle me with this loser, it was the first time I'd laughed at anything in weeks.

Something inside of me started to untwist, just a little, and the nagging terror in the bottom of my stomach began to subside.

Soon Cass joined me.

He stank.

Before, Cass had given off the unpleasant fug of a Friday night watering hole, leavened by damp wool and sweat. Now he reeked of petroleum refinery. Well, to be accurate, a bar that operated next door to a petroleum refinery.

He began to light up while as he started the engine.

"Are you insane?" I said as I took his lighter away."You'll blow us up with all the fumes you're giving off. Don't you have another pair of pants in your kit?"

"Yeh right," He gave me a sheepish look and held out one raw knuckled hand. "Now, be a love and give us the lighter?" I handed it back with reservations."I said these were me last pair, and they is." He shoved the lighter into his hip pocket.

"This place has a laundromat." I pulled my purse out from under the seat and rummaged around, "It's on me, go wash!"

"Only five? Aye, that's right bleedin' generous of yeh when I just shelled out thirty bucks on gas for yehs!"

Cass had a point. I slapped a twenty and a ten on his extended palm. The money joined the lighter.

"They _also_ have showers." He looked at me from behind those glasses, one eyebrow cocked, hand still out, "All right, if this isn't enough, let me know and I'll _lend_ you more." I pulled out another five.

"Ahhhh, such concerned generousity from me lady fair!"

"Fuck you, you greedy bastard, that's all you're getting out of me!" I clapped my hands over my mouth. In all the years I'd lived with Paolo, this had never been uttered aloud, though come to think of it maybe it should have. There was something about Cass that just made "Fuck you!" so easy to say right to his face.

My brother's friend sat there, arms draped loosely over the steering wheel, staring at me, mouth slightly open, teeth showing. Then he started laughing, howling really, and pounded his fist on the dash, leaving dents I didn't notice until later, "'S about fuckin' time lass, 's 'bout fuckin' time yeh started fightin' back! 'Ere, yeh go find somethin' to do while I cleans mesel' up. Shouldn'a be more than an hour, tops!"

Still laughing, he drove the U-Haul the distance it took to get us to the main plaza.

My face felt hot.

The bikers were still refueling, but I noticed that the one that had been staring at Cass had called her friends over and they were huddled together, as if they were discussing something.

A group potty break? The price of gas? The Lilith Fair?

Cass grabbed his kit from behind the driver's seat, still laughing, slammed the door and swaggered coatless into the building, shaking his head, still laughing.

Pretty soon the lady bikers went in after him.

I noticed a little sign taped on one of the big glass doors that said, "Barber Inside".

Barber.

I reached up and ran my fingers through my perky little haircut, the one that Vinny had recomended, no _told me_, that I needed - "Professional." he'd said, "And while you're at it, have them dye it brown. Nobody will ever take you seriously so long as you resemble a lit match."

I leaned forward, turned on the cab light and looked at my roots in the rearview mirror.

Almost an inch of undeniable red was showing.

I'd tried to keep up appearances, even though I could no longer afford to go to the expensive salon I had been using. Home dye jobs hadn't been kind to me. I'd given up on the whole thing at least a month ago.

Fuck that, Paolo could keep his brown hair; I wanted mine back!

The barber had five truckers in a wide assortment of sizes and shapes waiting ahead of me.

They stared at me - a woman in a baggy worn pea coat, designer slacks and expensive cross training shoes sitting amongst the pot bellies, prison cuts and mullets.

The biker femmes filed past the little glassed in barber shop, helmets off, revealing multiple pierced ears and noses. The other customers eyed them with dull curiousity before going back to magazines and cigarettes while waiting their turn in the chair.

I picked up a copy of _Field and Stream_ and leafed through it idly, trying to look like I did this all the time.

Finally, "Miss?"

"Huh?" I looked up from an article on how to reload your own shotgun shells and realized that I was alone with the barber, who was sweeping the floor, "Me? I'm next?"

"Oh no, not you! I thought you was holdin' a chair fer y'all's boyfriend. I don't do no ladies hair!" The bald middle-aged man in a blue smock waved around him, "Case y'all haven't noticed, but this place caters mainly to men of the male persuasion."

"I don't care." I stood up, took off my coat, dropped it on the chair I'd just vacated, and sat down on the barber chair.

"All right, but I ain't gonna have y'all's old man comin' in here and beating the shit out of me for defacin' his woman, am I?" Briskly he snapped the sheet before draping it over me.

It smelled of aftershave and cigarettes.

Like my father.

"Now, what d'ya'll want me to do with it? Just don't expect nothin' fancy, that's all. I only cut hair, I ain't one of them fancy "stylist" types."

"See this?" I held up my bangs, "See where it's red? Cut off...everything...thats not red...and...and...don't worry about the length, don't worry about the length...at all...it always grows back fast..." my voice cracked. I clamped my mouth shut before I did something really embarassing like burst into tears.

My face felt hot again, and in the mirror I could see that my face was blotching up all red and white.

"All right, if you insist. But if your old man comes in here and asks what the hell I'm doing, I'm tellin' him you asked for it and I tried to talk you out of it but y'all wouldn't listen!"

"Just do it."

Wendall, that was the name on his smock, fired up his clippers..

He stood behind me, I could see him in the mirror, staing at my head. Finally he shrugged and began running the clippers through Paolo's hair.

It took less than ten minutes to do the job.

Paolo's hair lay scattered on the floor. I no longer looked like a _Friends_ escapee. I was vaguely beginning to look like Cass if he'd ever been to prison.

The barber offered to mousse the remains. I let him after he tried to salvage the situation by cropping the sides and shaving the back of my neck.

Better buy a hat, or dig one out of the back of the U-Haul.

As I paid the barber, Cass thundered past, barefoot, sans Levis.

The entire group of lady bikers were right behind him in hot pursuit.

"Holeeee shee-it.", the barber drawled as he handed me my change, "I hope to Gawd that there stupid peckerwood didn't make a pass at one a them. Them there's les-beens. Better call security afore they busts the place up!"


	6. Humiliation and Progress

**Cass**

Big Mamma Cass cornered me right after I put me trowse into coin-op washer an' started it up.

She brought the entire herd a' coos with her.

"You little shit!" She grabbed me shirt an were shakin me back and forth like I were a baby rattle, me head bouncin' off the dryer behind me, thump-thump, "Thanks to you I missed out on taking take care of a friend's little sister. Instead I got sixteen stitches on my chin where you ducked that big fucker swinging that broken bottle, _and_ I got my car towed!"

Yeh, I knows, I knows, I can take on six or more an' win, thanks to me condition. But ugly as she were, Big Mamma Cass were a woman, a' ugly woman, but yeh don't goes aroun' hittin' women or yeh go straight to hell to moment yeh dies!

Even if they be beatin' yeh wi' kitchen table!

Me da' said, "Never hit a woman son, 'cause if I hears about it, I'll thump yeh black a' blue so yeh remebers me words."

Me oul man, he were a man of his word 'cause when I smacked Jenny O'Rourke inna gob f' callin' our ma a hoor, he took me out behin' our tenement an beat me so hard wi' razor strap I hurt f' days. I were only eight at time an' she were six, but I remembers what he said when I told 'im what Jenny called our ma after I tossed her ragdoll down the well because I was sweet on her, me da' said, "It still don't make it right to hit no female and I want yeh to remember that so yeh don' burn in Hell!"

Too bad I sometimes forgets wha' he told me that day, cause sometimes when I gets mad... So wi' Big Mamma Cass, I lets her have 'er wicked way wi' me on accoun' a me rememberin' me da's righteous words at wrong time. Tha' and it were a wee too public a place f' a real roister, it yehs catch me meanin. Ah shite, why now?

So I says, in between thumps a me head on the dryer, "Jaysis! That weren't me, who is yeh, lass?"

"Liar! You know who I am!" Big Mamma bellows an she plants a knee right between me legs and I feel one a' me dick's two best mates go pop-squish, "You ruined my beautiful face, and you're gonna pay for it you filthy Irish turd, stomp him sisters!"

Slippin' an' slidin' on the soap what I spilt when Big Mamma Cass startled me, I tries to get away, tryin' not to puke from what she done to me weddin' tackle, but her mates move in on me and they have a wee bit of a kickin' party. Remember them silly shites what did _Riverdance_? Well, that's what it felt like, Riverdancers an all they mates an' they mate's mates, an they mate's mate's mates, all a'dancin' on me a' once, 'stead a' them dancin' slippers, they's in Doc Martins!

Finally I manages to get mesel' out from under the hooves, all covered wi soap a' blood, an' I makes a run for th' door an out into passageway. Jaysis, me balls was swellin' up like basketballs and it were hard to run it hurt seh bad!

The whole herd of 'em comes after me, really angry now.

I says to mesel', "Cass, if yeh can get out into open, yeh can lose 'em an' no harm done. Yeh can always get yeh trousers back once yeh shake 'em." Seh I spits out met front teeth and runs into the restaurant, knockin' over th' waitress wi' tray a grub.

I looks back - Big Mamma Cass an' her mates are now starin' down a whopppin' size a' trucker type wi' hot gravy an' mash dribblin' down 'is forehead, so I slips into broom closet f' breather out by the johns.

I spends a few minutes pukin' me guts out in th' mop sink - that woman ha' knee wha' felt like bein' hit by a freight train! Someone kicked in me slats as well - I could feel 'em movin 'round in me chest an' it hurt to breathe.

Shite! The door rattles an' I grab th' knob - I been cornered once, won't be cornered again on th' same night. Why coudn'a Big Mamma Cass been a lad? I would'a thumped 'im a good one an' that been it!"

"Cass. I know you're in there, I can hear you breathing."

What a relief, it were me Jackie, though I didn't want me bird to see me in this condition. It might put her off me f' good!

"Go 'way." I says, "I'm busy."

"Like hell you are. I don't know what you said to set those women off, but Security's busy macing them in the dining room. You can come out now." I believed her, I could hear cursin' an dishes breakin' down' th' passageway.

"Shan't."

"Why not?" All business is our Jackie, even if she be a tightwad!

"I don't have me trowse on!" That an' me y-fronts is now all soaked w' blood —not a sight to inspire a lass to want to have a wee bit a fun later on. Seh what if th' bleedin's stopped a'ready an' th' swellin's gone down thanks to me condition!

"Bad excuse, I found your bag in the laundromat. _Now open the goddamn door!_"

Seh I lets go a' doorknob and she slides me bag in. Me wet jeans an boots be on top.

"It were all a wee misunderstandin'."

"I bet it was." I could hear her leanin' against th' door as I tosses th' y-fronts an' pulls on me best pair Levis, the ones wi' knees ripped out. Tell the truth, she sounded a wee bit pissed!

So I comes out after lappin' up the blood in the janitor's sink, no use wastin' the stuff even if it be mine, "I thought you told me you were down to one last pair, what are those?" she says all mad like while jabbin' me in the slats with one finger.

Aye, she's pissed all right!

Aw fuck! She hit the broken one what went into me lung!

"Forgot I had 'em in me kit, is all." is what comes out of me real soft.

"A likely story. Let's get out of here before someone from the dining room recognizes you as the rabbit that ran through the place." She gives me my coat an' hat and ' starts draggin' me to nearest exit by the hand. "I don't want to hear what it was you said to upset everybody, I just don't want to know, _understand?_"

"Aye." I squeaks and I meekly lets her lead me out into the parkin' lot and into the truck like a wee good lad. Me bootlaces are still loose an' flappin' but at this point, who gives a fuck? I'd rather risk trippin' over 'em than bend down to tie 'em!

She takes to keys away from me and climbs into the driver's seat, givin' me filthy looks the whole time. So I sits in the passenger side and tries not to cough too much when me rib starts slowly grindin' back into place on it's own an me flat lung starts sealin' itself up as she backs the U-Haul out.

Aw Jaysis, I need a drink, but right now, it hurts just to sit down, never mind bendin' over to get the vodka in me kit on to floor. An' I don't think Jackie's the kind what likes an open bottle 'round when she's drivin'.

But wha-hey-hey! She took me by the hand, she took me by the hand! I think I'm makin' progress here...but what the fuck did me Jackie do to 'er hair while I weren't lookin'?


	7. Ice Pack

**Jackie**

We made it out of Pennsylvania and all the way through Ohio without any further incidents.

This was only because we didn't stop for anything except breakfast at McDonald's an hour or so before dawn in the midst of a light flurry.

Cass slumped sullenly in the seat beside me in the cab of the U-Haul, bony knees thrust aggresively out of his torn jeans from where they pushed against the dashboard, hat jammed down over his eyebrows and ears, chin tucked into his coat and scarf despite the heater being on. He'd spent most of breakfast holed up in the men's room, cleaning up the aftermath of our disasterous Pennsylvania pit stop.

I think that the ice pack that I'd bought for him at McDonald's was helping. I don't think the dykes that gave Cass his no doubt well-deserved beating did anything more serious than wound his pride by fattening his lip and bloodying his nose.

God, the man needed a babysitter!

The radio was busy spouting warnings of a large late season snowstorm in between the usual ads for tires, strip joints and fried chicken. We'd had a tussle earlier over which station to play.

Me: NPR for the early morning news

Cass: A big band station that advertised an endless stream of laxitives and denture adhesive sandwiched in between Benny Goodman and Glen Miller. Cass surprised me by knowing all the words before he was overtaken by a professional grade early morning smoker's hack. While he was distracted I switched to Easy Listening.

Cass immedieatly switched the radio over to a 1950's station. Oh God, the "Do-wop" cruelty of it all...

Out of spite, I switched to a rap station out of Indianapolis. Cass paused long enough in his coughing to flip me the bird in the greenish glare of the dashboard and switched over to a country and western station with the hand that wasn't covering his mouth with the icepack.

Country and western was something that we could both agree upon in our mutual loathing. One twang and we simultaneously reached for the dial, nearly knocking ourselves silly in a minor head-on collision, causing the U-Haul to swerve.

In the end, heavy metal won only because neither of us was in the mood to argue any further. At least the repeated assaults of _Megadeath_ and _Ozzy_, liberally sprinkled with a manic DJ screaming about _Kiss_ reunion tickets drowned out that damned coughing.

Finally the coughing died down and we rode on, each lost in our own thoughts.

Me? The fact that I had originally been scheduled to be married this afternoon was gnawing at me. God only knew what was on Cass's. His head lolled, before bouncing off the window with a heavy "clunk"; the ice pack sliding out of his hand and landing wetly on the floorboard. He began a fruity gurgling gape-mouthed-two-way-in-and-out gasping snore that was audible over even_ Judas Priest_ at their loudest. I must have been really tired the other day not to have heard that rafter-rattler. I glanced over at him again. He looked exhausted...and strangely childlike all huddled up in that big black coat.

Five miles further, I yawned, stretching as best I could while still gripping the steering wheel. The falling snow in the truck's headlights was getting heavier.

"Lass, yeh all right to drive?" I jumped and glanced over at Cass, who was groggily rubbing at his head where it had connected with the window. Light sleeper I guess, despite the snore. "Aye?"

"Yes. How's...how's your mouth?" I still found it difficult to take Cass seriously as a person. It was easier to think of him as a self-propelled weed whacker with attitude or an attack dog with Tourette's.

"Aye, I'll get over it, I always does." Cass looked out the window he was leaning against, and then slowly shifted so that his knees weren't on the dash and his feet were now on the floor. "D'ye mind stoppin' now?"

"What, here?" I peered into the side rearview mirror. We had the road almost to ourselves at this early hour.

The horizon was beginning to flush red behind us, despite the falling snow.

"I needs to stretch, is all. Then if yeh don't mind...Jackie...I'm gonna doss down in th' back f' day. I don't feel seh good after me little adventure." His voice sounded slurred, mushy.

"Why can't you just lie down on the seat like I did last night? There's plenty of room."

"No," he stifled a cough, "Believe me, I has me reasons."

"What if we get stopped?"

"Then yeh'll say 'Honest officer, I had no idea he was back there, aye?' I'll back yeh up on it!" Impatience crept into Cass' voice as he turned those opaque lenses my way. He put one large knuckled hand firmly but gently over mine on the wheel. I had horrifying realization that he could yank it out of my hand easily should he choose to do so. "Seh, please..." Now he was wheedling me in that heavy singsong accent of his, "Jackie, if yeh'd only pull over a wee bit. I'll make th' switch an none be the wiser, aye?"

Reluctantly I pulled over on to the shoulder if I-70 and Cass got out. He stood out of the bitter snow bearing wind in the shelter of the U-Haul, semis cannoning past while he nervously smoked the last ciggie of the day with one eye on the eastern horizon.

I unlocked the back, Cass flicked the butt onto the road before climbing in. I couldn't help but notice that he'd packed my mattress on top of my tightly duct taped down boxes of computer gear and clothing in such a way that he could comfortably lie on it. Had he planned this ahead of time?

"Seh, I'll see yeh 'round sundown, aye? Don't worry about owd Cass, he's done this before! Now be a pet an' close the door will yeh Jackie?" Belly down, he slid slowly out of sight headfirst, boots bringing up the rear. "Do be a love and hand Cass up his kit first, will yeh?"

"I don't like any of this!" I called up after Cass as I slid his heavy carry-all up after him.

Cass slithered back into view head first and looked down at me, "Well, yeh could always join me back here. Plenny room f' both've us, be real cozy...yeh know." He was sweating noticably despite the cold of the morning. He grinned down at me almost back to his molars and held out one gloved hand. His teeth glinted red in the dawn.

"Screw you!" I slammed the door shut and locked it. Why is it that some people, the moment you start to _maybe_ like them, have to go and ruin it?


	8. Vodka, Asprin, and Autopsies

**Cass  
**

Jackie started the engine up an' I gave into the full luxury of a long owd nasty cough to get the blood outta me right lung where me bastard broken ribs ha' stuck in 'em. I did me best earlier an' fainted only once in the cab after I sucked down a entire bottle asprin dissolved in vodka t' dull the pain in the can at Micky-D's. Big Mamma Cass an 'er pals what kicked in me slats, done a right fuckin' professional job of it.

Good thing I'd fed so big on them two hoors Paolo a' Philippe or I'd be worse off than I were now. I didn't think Jackie heard the sounds o' me broken bones grindin' together over the radio as me body started pullin' itself back together like always. Already I could feel me new front teeth stickin' out a' me gums where dykes kicked me in face —'nother benefit a' me condition, yeh knows.

I didn' want me bird to know about that - not yet anyway. Some things yeh don't want to give out all 't once f' fear a' drivin' people away. Not everybody can take owd Cass as 'e truly be right away!

Anyway, she might ha' takin' me to th' nearest hospital, an then were would I be? Hospitals be bad places f' likes a' owd Cass, right _bad_ places what with all those nosey doctors hangin' 'round! Doctors is one thing t' avoid, Cass learned all about doctors in 1947 th' hard way when he o.d.'ed on heroin cut wi' rat poison an' woke up in the middle of his own autopsy at some bastard teachin' hospital. Should ha' seen th' look on those intern's faces when I sat up screamin' bloody murder with me chest all open an' them pokin' round inside... Too bad, it might ha' been nice to have me Jackie an' maybe some nurses wi' really big tits fussin' over me...

So, I lays' there on 'er mattress, enjoyin' smellin' where she'd slept an' eatin' raw steak I'd stashed earlier, washin 't down wi' me last bottle a' bourbon t' speed up th' mendin' an' keep the blood hunger down to a dull roar in the background —shite but it hurts to chew when all yeh's got is bare gums up front!

S' a funny thing, 'er mattress, Paolo's smell weren't there, not a whiff! I smelled him in the other bedroom, an' she'd left all that shite behin' in New York. I know, he were queer, bu' some plays both ways when needs be.

Not that I woul' know anythin' 'bout that, aye?

That Paolo-hoor, glad he weren't stinkin' up me hidey hole anyway - made me fuckin' eyes water when I fed off'n 'im the other night. Had to brush me teeth three times and drink a bottle o' me Jackie's nail polish remover I foun' under her sink to get rid a' th' aftertaste of his 'spensive cologne!

Now, why would me Jackie put up w' all that shite when there were plenty a' good, steady reliable lads like Cass out there, willin' an' able to show her a good time?

Sometimes I'll never understand the female a' the species!


	9. Arse Over Teakettle

**Jackie**

Stopped at McDonald's again, this time for lunch somewhere outside of Columbus.I knocked on the back door of the U-Haul - Cass told me to go away, so he's still alive back there.

It's been snowing heavily for the last couple of hours - I've had to slow down; traffic's thinned out some. The further west I go the more snowplows I see.

_God I'm tired._

We're in Indiana now.

Flat. Flat. Flat. Why does it have to be so _flat_ here? The wind's straight down from Canada without interruption. Was that red lightning I just saw? What's that all about?

_God I'm tired._

I'm sick of everybody telling me what to do, how to live and what to eat.

I'm sick of being a joke.

_God I'm tired._

What is it I want out of the world?

What is it that the world wants from me?

_God I'm tired._

Do I really like computer programming? Or was it just a vehicle to drive me out of a situation I didn't like?

Is this all there is to my life? Maybe I should just eat my fill of Valium and get it over with.

_God I'm tired._

Come to think of it, why didn't Philippe and Paolo make good on their threats to sic their lawyers on me for Cass beating them up the other night? Wouldn't Selma have noticed something wrong as they fled the building?

Where on earth did my brother meet Cass anyway? Anywhere but Sunday Mass, I'll bet!

_God I'm so tired, I could fall asleep right here._


	10. Roadside Squabbles

**Cass**

First thing I remembers when I wakes up were Jackie lookin' down at me with her fingers feelin me throat f' pulse and sayin' "Oh my God, I've killed him!"

Th' secon' thing I recalls is her screamin' an' fallin' over backwards when I looks up, grabs her hand, an' sez, "No yehs didn't!"

I were layin' on me back in th' snow, heart stopped, between th' highways. More snow were comin' down all thicklike. "Cass," I says to mesel', "Yehs out in broad daylight, yeh'll burn clean up to ashes an' then where will yeh be? Get under cover before it's too late, yeh silly shite!"

But nary an itch, neh tingle, neh smoke! Then me 'eart starts beatin' regular again, always a relief. Irregular heartbeats makes Cass feel dizzy; real distractin' that is.

The storm covered up th' sun enough seh that Cass's safe - which reminds me, some days, rainy days, I can walk out in day like respectable folk an' see sights long as th' storm holds out. Just itches like hell, is all!

Jackie is sittin' on her fanny in th' snow - she fell back when I springs me wee surprise on her. I lets go a' her hand an' says, "Seh wha' happen'?" I tries not t' laugh, though th' whole thing's bloody hysterical when yeh's looks at it.

Her mouth works a bit an then she sighs, "I hit a patch of black ice and rolled the truck. Oh God, can things go any more wrong?"

'Believes me, lass, _yes_.' I thinks, but I didn't say it f' fear a makin' things worse. Seh I says as I sits up, "Does yeh smell smoke?"

'Round 'bout then truck 'splodes, whoomp!

Me bird stands up and starts runnin' to truck, "Shit! Shit! Shit! Me and my big mouth! Why did I have to say that? We haven't even been in Indiana five minutes and this happens! I hate everything!"

So I stands up to stop 'er from doin' somethin' stupid , which hurts like 'ell, I dislocated me shoulder when accident threw me out a back a' truck. But me Jackie were smarter 'n that: instead she just stops after a few feet and starts jumpin up a' down a' screamin' obscenities I didn't think she knew on account a' her bein' seh posh.

Seh I sits arse down in 't snow, workin' me shoulder back in't socket watchin' 'er - what a sight, better than pro wrestlin' on t.v. on a cold night!

It were good thing that fucker Paolo were already dead, - th' disasters she called down on 'is ead would'a made Job look like a lucky man!

Maybe I did the stupid bollicks a favor by killin' him?

Eventually me bird calms down and is crouched down on to side a' highway, arms 'round 'er knees watchin' truck burn. I finds me kit in the snow an' shoulders it before I takes 'er arm an' pulls her t' her feet, "C'mon lass, yeh'll freeze out here. Let's go find a motel."

Yeh see, even wi' snow, I could smell a town ahead. Me? I didn't fancy spendin' th' day out in open - th' storm might end and th' sky clear up, then where I wou' be? Out in open w' sun fryin' me arse, neh thanks!

Seh, even though to snow were fallin' fast an' thick I starts followin' wha' I can see a' th' highway, Jackie beside me. I tries to put arm' round her shoulder an' she shrugs me off. Be that way, see what I care!

"It were just t'ings yeh lost back there lass, just t'ings". I ventures after th' first mile while I lights up a fag. I'm feelin' a wee bit pissed off meself. Me face's goin' numb an the lighter keeps goin' out in the stiff breeze comin' down on us. "Yeh lucky yeh weren't killed when the truck rolled."

_"Go to Hell!"_ she snarls, "I know how bad things are without your help."

We passes a billboard advertisin' some shite resort in Florida f' owd folks,

"I know. I'm should be grateful to be alive and all that _crap_, right?" She grumbles under 'er breath so she thinks I can't hear 'er as she slips her hand into me pocket next t' mine. "At least I was wearing my seat belt when we flipped over, and _he_ wasn't killed so I don't have to be responsible for paying for this idiot's funeral!"

This were too much! Owd Cass blew off all her other mumbles, like th' one about him stinkin' up her flat t' other day, but this? This? "Thank yeh seh bloody fuckin' much f' yeh fuckin' concern but I'll take care a' me own buryin'!" I snarls at her. I start walkin' faster and tosses her hand out, leavin' her standin' on side a' road. I mean, even Cass can only take seh much before he's had enough, aye?

Owd Cass' been buried at least once r' twice in a borrowed suit what didn't fit right. It weren't fun, didn't like it one bit no-bloody-fuckin' way, crawlin' out from six feet under w' me eyes an' gob sewn shut w' a belly full a' embalmin' fluid. Th' only satisfaction were when Cass showed up at 'is mate's an' saw 'em piss themselves in fright. At least they were glad t' see their owd mate once they got off t' floor, but Jackie? Jackie?

Silly coo! I don't need this shite!

Soon I hear her trottin' t' catch up wi' me. I slows down a wee bit, but not much. She sticks her hand back in me coat pocket and I lets it stay.

"It doesn't mean anything," she says. "I lost my gloves in the wreck, so don't get any ideas!"

"Believe me, _I weren't!" _I snarls.

Seh, we keeps walkin'. Then Jackie says, "Cass, can we stop for a minute? I can't feel my feet any more."

Awwww, shite, not that! I turn 'round an' she's sittin' in th' snow an' bitin' her lip like she's tryin' not t' cry, holdin' her feet in them wee shoes she be always wearin'. Cass is wearin' stout boots as always an' didn't think about such things. "Eh c'mon lass, it not be that far. Tell yeh what...I'll carry yeh 'til we get t' town ahead."

Seh, even though I'm right pissed wi' her, I carries Jackie piggyback an' makes better time f' it - Cass's stronger than 'e looks. An' it weren't seh bad havin' a wee lass no bigger than Cass on me back holdin' on to me shoulders. Cass's had far worse things a'ridin' on 'is back in to past - Jackie were a relative pleasure.


	11. Up In Smoke On Shit Creek

**Jackie**

Thousands of dollars worth of professional grade computer equipment plus all my clothes - all gone because I dozed off behind the wheel. Could things possibly get any worse?

Well, yes. Now I was riding on Cass's back in a blizzard, my feet stuffed into his coat pockets for warmth, with his hair tickling my cheek where my face rested against his neck.

Which smelled of cigarettes, alcohol, and...raw meat.

Yes, things have definitly gotten worse.

Did I pay the insurance on any of this stuff?

No! I had to cancel all my insurance so I could pay off Paolo's furniture bills after I lost my job.

Hey, I did pay the insurance on the U-Haul when I rented it a few days ago - maybe that would..?

Don't get your hopes up Jackie!

They'll rightly blame it on you and you'll have one more debt to pay off.

Get in line folks, get in line. I'll pay you back eventually. Just not all at once, 'k?

I think my purse was burned in the explosion when the truck blew up.

Maybe there's a convenience store that will let us hang around until this snow lets up and we can call for a tow?

Don't be stupid, after your last monumental screw-up, a guy with a shovel and a bucket would be more in order.

Cass was right, there is a town nearby.

With a motel.

Maybe they'd let us stay in the lobby?

Because I sure as hell can't pay them with a credit card that is now a melted lump in the bottom of my wreck.

I doubt Cass'll be much help. He's probably dead broke.

His kind usually are.

"'ere lass, I'm gonna let yeh down."

So, I drop to the snow, feet first and I let him lead me to a fleabag motel right off the exit ramp.

'Surprise. Surprise. Surprise,' as Gomer Pyle used to say.

He pays cash for a single from a wad big enough to choke a horse that's held together with a gold money clip that looks suspiciously like the one I gave to Paolo last year for Christmas.

I interrupt, "Two rooms, please." The old man behind the counter acts surprised but obeys. Cass looks sour behind his sunglasses, but I don't care.

I'll reimburse him one of these days. He'll just have to get in line behind everyone else I've borrowed from the last six months.

Standing in front of the door of my room, Cass wordlessly hands me a t-shirt to sleep in.

It has a Budweiser logo on it.

That's not even funny.

So I end my day around 5 a.m. by closing my door in Cass's face in some cheap motel; not boarding a jet for the Bahamas with Paolo.


	12. Same Old Same Old

**Cass**

_She shut th' door in me face, after all I done f' 'er! She shut th' fuckin' door! Me Jackie what I carries on me own back in a fuckin' blizzard down th' middle a' I-70 has th' bloody cheek t' shut th' door in Cass's face f' thank yehs!_

So there I sits in me motel room all pissed off, curtains closed first thing like always, wi' one paper thin wall between us, me boots soaked, an' me arse half frozen, watchin' fuckin' MTV on teevee while finishin' off last a' th' raw steak I'd stashed in me kit, listenin' to her showerin' next door.

Jaysis! A woman needs her space, but one "Thank you, Cass.", just one wee "Thank you."

...well, she di' say _that_: "Thanks Cass, but I need to be alone right now. I've just had a very bad day and you're a little too much for me to handle right now." Fuck this shite, not even a 'alf arsed snog f' thank yeh?

What's wrong wi' Cass?

Is it his attitude?

Is it his breath?

Is his highly lovable workin' class charm a wee bit too rough?

Ahhh fuck this shite! Seh what if Cass ain't dainty 'nuff by half, maybe our Jackie be one a them what pines after queers after all!

She don't act like no fag hag.

But she did live w' one...?

So I lights up a butt, takes off me boots an' tries to watch teevee while me feets thaw out an' me toes finish healin' up after Big Mamma what stomps 'em inta jelly. Jaysis but it hurts!

Wonder why Cass's feets take seh long to heal when they's not all that big compared t' rest a' Cass?

Wish I'd saved th' last a' tha' bottle a' vodka an asprin!

Fuckin' MTV - all bolliky reality shows, not all music like it used to be!

Wonder why Cass's feets hurt seh bloody mean healin' up when there's not all that much t' hurt compared t' rest a' Cass?

Ahhhhh, fuck, now MTV's runnin' bollicky game show? Wi' wankers in easy chairs? Fuck! I turns the shite off when I really want's to toss fucker out th' bloody winda! Instead, I punches holes in th' wall by bed wi' me fist; which makes me feel seh much better.

Jackie turned off the water.

I hears her movin' 'round th' place an' me only steady friend in all th' world stands up an' takes notice. "Don't bother mate, frigid bitch ain't interested in the likes a' yeh." I says an' opens me last bottle a' Jack an takes a pull, me feets an' me dick both throbbin bad. Fuck, should never ha' got involved wi' her, 's too much crazy shite f' one lad t' take!

Aw hell, I hear me Jackie climbs into bed an' start cryin' t' herself again, real soft. Which makes Cass feel like a day old bucket o' shite f' sayin' what he just did. Some things yeh just need to do in privatelike, yeh know. Maybe I were a wee bit too hard on wee lass? I mean, yeh lover's yeh lover, even if he's a bit of a prick! Would it make 'er feel better if she knew that bugger be dead now an' runnin down' sewer after good owd Cass's last righteous shite?

_Prolly not!_

Seh, to give 'er privacylike, I puts me hands over me ears, an' start's singing summat loud to drown 'er out.

But it don't work, seh I says, "Fuck it!" an' takes a shower. A real long shower, which quiets me feet, but not me dick.

When I shuts off the water, I notice that me Jackie's quieted down. Th' snowstorm's still goin' though, blowin' 'gainst the buildin' makin' it shake.

Funny thing is, when I steps out inna room, dryin' mesel' off, th' door what connected our two rooms were open.

Not much, just a little bit, mind yeh.

Ahhh, Cass, I says to meself, is this wha' yeh've been waitin' for? Or is it just the storm knockin' th' door loose a wee bit?

I stands there, dryin' mesel' off, wonderin' wha' open door meant.

I could hear her breathin' regularlike.

I don't know if she opened it f' me, or if I'm just askin' f' a thump onna head.

I catches sight ah mesel' in th' mirror by the dresser and says, "Take a chance Mr. Cassidy, yeh've been wantin' this f' a while."

And I replies, "Well Doctor Cassidy, yeh spot on as always. What does yeh recomend?"

"Don't be a wanker an' ruin it like yeh usually does, is all!" Doctor Cassidy replies, "An' by the way me old son, has yeh taken a right honest look at yehself in mirror lately?"

I takes a real good look in th' fuckin' mirror again. Aye, all th' legends are pure shite about that bit, also about garlic an' crosses —and replies, "Cass, lad, yeh's dead sexy as always, but maybe yeh's a wee bit scruffy about the edges. When's th' last time yeh even bothered t' shave?"

"Last week maybe?" I digs around in me carry-all and finds razor case wi' strop wrapped 'round it. Bruises what Big Mamma gave me on me manly jaw were gone anyway; no use hidin' what ain't there. "Doctor Cassidy, yehs dead on like always! How much do I owe yehs for this consultation?"

"I'll put it on yeh tab, boyo, I'll put it on yeh tab."

Surprised I know how to use one a' them these days when everybody uses electric or safety? Fuck, it's not hard! 'S what me dad an' me big brother Billy taught me t' shave wi' - I still uses straight razor what I got in pawn shop back in '17 after some bastard stole me belongin's th' first night I was in America - never did get hang a' them so-called safety razors. Sliced mesel' up s' bad I passed out first time I used one —never mind I woke up an hour later on boarding house washroom floor stuck fast in a patch a' me own dried blood with nary a scar to show for it with th' landlady screamin her fuckin' head off because she thought I did meself in! "Aye Cass, that's the way." I finishes and then I says to mesel', "Why stop halfway?" an' trims me sideburns an back a' me neck f' first time in weeks.

Dead sexy! Seh I uses whiskey on me face cause I never did like th' stinkwater yeh s'posed to use. Who do yeh think I am, fuckin' Paolo? I take that back, aftershave does well enough when yeh's run outta good shite an' the fuckin' D.T.s is crampin' yeh guts - doesn't burn like Lyesol goin' down neither.

Then I goes an digs roun' me kit an finds me good trowse what I been savin' f' special occasion. Yeh know, th' grey ones wi' black specks what I usually wraps 'round bottles to keep 'em from smashin'!

An' me braces, suspenders to yeh Yanks.

Always did like braces bettern' belt, even though me dad used to take his regular-like to me an' Billy's backs when we was wee lads f' stealin' shite on Market Day an' shamin' our ma. Braces lend a man a bit a' class, nothin' like a belt do, shame only Amish wankers an' owd geezers wear 'em nowadays.

I got these back in '42 I did, an I take right good care 'f 'em, real leather an' brass! I rubs 'em wi' neatsfoot whenever I remembers to, though I rarely wears 'em now.

Maybe today were the time to wear 'em. I mean me Jackie's a class bit o' fanny and maybe Cass ain't been class enough f' e'r to take Cass an' 'is wooin' seriously.

So, I digs around a wee bit more in me kit and finds me good turtleneck, the one wi'out too many fag burns in it.

I shakes it out an dusts off th' lint, lint shows somethin' fierce onna black turtleneck.

Then I finds an e'spensive hand knit Irish sweater on the very, very bottom and I says, "Cass, the yuppie wanker what yeh pinched this off'a won't mind if yeh uses it f' a wee bit a class wooin' in his garment. Never mind th' fucker were passed out face down inna gutter outside Clooney's Pub when yeh borrowed it from him last St. Pat's!"

Door still be open, a good sign, aye?

I looks me'sel' over one more time, "Killer, real killer!" an' then runs back an' brushes me teeth again wi' whiskey.

Now Cass is ready. Will it be "Bless ye Cass, I've been wantin' yehs since I first laid eyes on yeh?", or will it be "Get the fuck out or I'll scream!" while she caresses me tenderly over th' head w' chair?


	13. Mixed Blessings

**Jackie**

Why did I get up and unlock the connecting door between our rooms?

Because I wanted to, that's why.

Contemplating your debts and spending what was supposed to be your wedding day in the Bahamas alone in a cheap motel stinks.

I was an idiot to have allowed myself to let Paolo take me for a ride!

A fat, pimply virgin right out of grad school, I fell for Paolo the second he gave me the time of day at the Bally's I joined only because my doctore told me to.

Paolo was the chief dancercise instructor. This alone should have told me something was wrong even then; but I was too naive at the time to recognize the warning signs.

Let's be honest: I 'd been blinded by the fact that someone as perfect as Paolo was being nice to me; and not just because I could do his homework so he could get a passing grade and stay on the team.

That's the way Paolo could make you feel: special, that you were _the one._

Paoloe helped me dislodge the fat and keep it off. He convinced me to spring for cosmetic surgery and facial peels to erase the acne scars. For that I'm forever grateful, so I can't hate him too much.

He told me how to dress so that I didn't look like a slug at business meetings, what car to drive, how to act in public so that people would respect me.

Eventually he told me where to live and how to entertain.

After a year, he moved in - it was great.

I wanted sex, but Paolo kept putting me off, saying that I needed to concentrate on my career. Anyway, he was Italian, and his mother wanted him to marry a virgin. How could he marry me if I wasn't a virgin? It would kill his mother if she even knew about me not being a virgin before the wedding. "Save yourself for me, please?" And then to keep the secret, Paolo encouraged me never to attend any of his family gatherings, of which there were a lot.

This really hurt, but I didn't want to ruin things for him, for us.

Paolo told me to concentrate on getting ahead, and that my headhunter was cheating me blind.

So, I stood up to my headhunter. It felt good and it worked.

Thanks to Paolo, I could now afford the clothes and shoes that I'd coveted ever since I was a kid - and I looked damned good in them, too.

The parties Paolo and I threw were great, but I couldn't help but sometimes feel that the only people we invited were all _Paolo's_ friends.

Where were mine?

I guess mine weren't good enough. 

They wouldn't advance my career.

Never mind that I liked Jewellee, the rainbow dreadlocked cashier at the company cafeteria. She was funny and smart and liked her job because it gave her lots of time to practice the bass she played every Friday at various jazz clubs with her brother who played tenor sax. She was always inviting me to come listen, she said her brother was _"Real fine!"_ and that I'd like him.

How about Moshe, the blind Jewish guy who sold me newspapers every morning on the way to work? He wrote free verse poetry and let me read bits of it, all typed up on pieces of scrap paper on his Braille typewriter that could do both standard and Braille symbols.

Then there was Estelle, the bag lady that lived behind my condo building, who'd once been a mobster's wife. She said living in a cardboard box was better than being married to the Mob. She had the razor scars on her throat to prove it.

Paolo told me that knowing people like that wouldn't get me anywhere, so I never invited them, or my co-workers, into my life.

God, what fool I was to listen to him!

Nobody bothered to say goodbye when I packed up my office stuff in a cardboard box and walked out the door for the last time. The rest of the people in my office were all going to the nearest bar to get smashed on their severance checks - I wasn't invited.

Letting Cass in was a way of spitting on Paolo.

Feeling Cass's body moving between my legs with each stride as he piggybacked me down the shoulder of I-70 after the U-Haul overturned and blew up had been...intriguing.

Cass, lean, hungry, scrawny, nasty Cass, beneath the baggy layers of his winter clothing, was hard. Harder than the beautifully sculpted Paolo would ever be, no matter how many hours he spent at the gym.

The part of me of me that Paolo had unsuccessfully tried to burn out wondered what it would be like to have a body like that moving against me, moving within me...what would those big knuckled hands feel like moving all over me? What did he taste like? Was he...

Snap out of it Jackie! Cass is a loser, a useful loser that my brother inflicted on me because he and the rest of the family had been too caught up in their lives to personally come out and help me move on such short notice.

Come to think of it, I'd shut _them_ out, too. Paolo told me they were losers, and the less contact with them the better because they'd only drag me down. I'd gladly allowed him to help me shut them out, because I agreed with his evaluation.

They were losers too. Otherwise they'd be living in bigger houses and driving better cars.

Define loser: Come to think of it , it was anybody that held me back from being a bottomless ATM machine for Paolo. Once that supply was cut off...I became a loser. At least Cass seemed honest in his demands and gave me something back in return...I mean, loser or not, he'd looked out for me in his own agressively inept way. Seeing Paolo's nose go flat underneath one of Cass's uncannily fast blows had been satisfying in a way that a lawsuit never would have been. Then, today when my feet went numb with the cold, he'd just put me on his back and tucked them in his coat pockets and that was the end of it.

No complaints, no scolding like Paolo would have, he just carried me.

I'd felt like a real bitch for closing the door on Cass's face when he tried to join me in the hotel room. There'd been the usual badly concealed look of hurt from him, seasoned with genuine anger just like the first time back in my former condo after the brawl.

I took a long shower and put on the shirt that he'd leant me from his kit.

Even though it was surprisingly clean, it still smelled like Cass.

It kept me awake when I wanted to sleep. It said, "Take a chance lass, I could be a lot a' fun! What have yeh got to lose but yeh pride? Come play wi' owd Cass. Why not spit at Paolo and enjoy life for once with a little rough stuff like me?"

Another voice broke in, from somewhere below my navel. I liked how it sounded: tough and greedy. Like Bette Midler with an MBA. The last time I heard this one it was came out of my mouth when I was renegotiating my contract for more money three years ago.

"Sleep with a stranger right off the streets you hardly know? Shit honey, it's about time you came around! That red-headed piece of meat's gave off the right signals the moment you set eyes on him. You don't need to see a man's eyes to know he's interested, sweetie! Hell, if Cass wants to hang around afterwards, let him. Just don't allow him take advantage of you like Paolo did!"

Which is why I undid the lock on my side of the door that turned our rooms into a suite.

Cass seemed harmless enough whenever he wasn't picking fights with people larger than himself.

In fact, he was kind of amusing in his own way. Like a nervous little kid peeking out at you from behind the mask of an adult.

So I didn't argue with Cass when he took me in his arms and began running his fingers through what was left of my hair and nuzzling at the side of my neck after he lay down beside me on the hard, lumpy hotel bed.

Which, come to think of it, was more than Paolo had ever given me.


	14. Open Doors?

**Cass**

Jaysis! She's not screamin' and no chair is bein' used to massage me head - Cass, yeh luck is holdin' out.

An' she's wearin' that owd shirt yeh lent her when the truck went arse over teakettle inna ditch an' tossed yeh across the road when door bust.

She were seh pretty, an smelled seh good, I wanted to eat her right there.

_Not that, yeh wankers,_ Cass knows the difference between dinner an bein' on the job even if he hasn't fed proper in two days!

Me Jackie opens 'er eyes an' moves over. I thought me heart would stop - not that it hasn't more 'n once which has got us in more trouble than Cass cares to remember, seh I says, "Eh lass, care f' a bit o' company to weather to storm out?"

"I could use the company." An' she smiles a' me and holds out her arms, like she means it!

Cass is _in!_

So I takes 'er in me arms, an she smells even better 'n I thought - 'spensive perfume, worth ev' penny!

Me Jackie weren't drop dead gorgeous, but she were smart, an I likes a smart lass what can take care of hersel' wi' bad taste in men. Otherwise auld Cass would'na stand a chance!

I ventures a kiss, an she returns it and pretty soon we're enjoyin' it, me' runnin' me 'ands up an down 'er back, then me bird stops and pulls away.

Uh oh Cass, what have yeh done to make her go rigid like that? Don' tell me she's changed her mind and plans to toss yeh out on yeh ear! I could force things, but Cass don't like it that way, Cass always wants t' come back f' more - 's good t' be loved, yeh know? An' in this cold owd world yeh don' get it that often.

Then she says, "I don't mind you in my bed, but I'll be goddamed if I share you with those stupid sungalsses!"

Eh? Even Cass don't like to look at his own eyes, not since our Change in 1916. But...well sacrifices must be made! "I will, 'slong 's yeh leaves the lights out once I takes 'em off - got an eye condition what don't like light."

A lie, but good 'nough.

So off they go, an' she caresses me face. I steers her away from me eyes, though they itches somethin' fierce an her cool fingers would relieve them a while. No use answerin' questions about why they feel the way they do.

T'would ruin to mood, it would.

Then she 'elps me wi' me sweater - hot fucker it be! "Did you dress up for me?" she teases.

"Seh yehs noticed, then!" I teases back, an grabs 'er right tight an begin' ticklin' 'er a bit, which me bird didn' say neh to - she returns w' intrest, 's'truth!

"And I bet you even bothered to shave while you were at it."

"Aye, and what would yeh be doin' about it?" An I kisses her fingers all th' way up t' her shoulders.

Pretty soon off come me braces, me shirt and she's all cuddled up against me like kitten t' warm teapot in January. I feel like me dick's gonna bust me zip, but we have all day to draw it out sweet an' fine. I ventures a hand up her back under me borrowed shirt and she freezes again.

"Whass matter lass, did tumble w' truck hurt yeh?"

"It feels so good it hurts, nobody's ever done that to me before. Don't stop."

Nobody? Now that were odd. Who wouldn't want to, Jackie got skin like silk!

Seh I keeps caressin', "Yehs so beautiful, lass, seh beautiful." I tastes her throat and lips again, that's the way! "Owd Cass don't believe yeh when yeh says that, yeh know." She pushes away f' me, rolls over and lies there looking up at to ceiling, kinda laughin' 'neath her breath.

Now what?

"This was supposed to be my wedding day. In the Bahamas. Not some fleabag hotel in the middle of Nowhere, Indiana during a blizzard!" She sits up and puts her arms around her knees in the darkness while the wind be shakin' th' buildin'.

Holy shite Cass, yeh should'a guessed by 't dress on to floor back in New York! But I has to ask, "An' I weren't in yeh plans."

"No, you weren't. My plans included 2.5 kids, a house in the Hamptons, and a husband that didn't smell like beer."

"Well, I don't smell like beer today, whiskey, aye, but not beer..." She reaches out and fetches me a smart ding on the ear. "Wrong toing 't say, eh? Well, Cass is who he..oh Jaysis, you aren't...I didn't think there was such a thing over th' age a twelve these days?"

"Yep." Me Jackie slides over to where I now be leanin' on one elbow on the mattress, "Another Paolo lie I bought sight unseen." She smelled angry.

"A wha'?"

"Never mind, it'd take too long to explain." The anger smell dies down, now she's sad.

Well now...

"I don' know wha' kinda shite yeh an' that hoor got up to, but. I can take care a _that_ if yeh'd only' give us a try.Yeh'd like it - I'm an Irishman, an' Irishmen be good a' sex - t' only thing the fuckin' limeys left us when the bollick's took the country over an stole everytin' else worth ownin'. I rest a hand on her hip. Outside I'm bein' all brashlike, but inside I'm groanin', "Ah Cass, yehs silly ejit, a virgin. In all yeh years on this miserable earth, yeh've only had one a' them, and that were Little Joanie...an' you..an' you.._an' you broke her heart an' nearly killed her...yeh worthless motherfucker! Oh shite, I don't wanna 'member that after all this time an' ruin everythin' now!_

Let's just say that auld Cass didn't get a virgin the first time neither the day he lied about bein' older'n sixteen an' joined the Home Guard a month before the unpleasantness in Dublin 'round Easter. It were just some dirty owd toothless Dublin hoor out behin' pub 'gainst to wall f' shillin' when it were yer turn after yeh new Home Guard mates had done wi' her. An she called yeh Robert the whole three minutes it took yeh to do to th' dirty deed.

Ah well, at least Cass could piss wi'out screamin' two days after th' Home Guard doc finished doin' his worse t' us what wi' his red hot silver wire an' all. Makes us sweat t' remember it even though it's been nearly eighty years since tha' shite happened.

Now it's Cass' turn to sit up in to bed and put his arms 'round his knees. I don't like rememberin' shite like that. Why can't Cass remember the good shite wi'out the bad shite intrudin' an' ruinin' everythin' every bloody fuckin' time?

"Yeh's got to break a lass in nice 'n easy er' first time," I remembers me big brudder Billy tellin' me one day while we were muckin out privy behind 't tenemant we lived in wi' our ma an' da'. I were twelve an' 'e sixteen. "Elsewise, she'll hate yeh and all men forever an' a day after that an it'll be all yeh fault!" Seh I says, "An how woul' yeh be knowin' that yeh great bollicks?" E' looks all mysterious and then he checks to see if our ma is nearby. Our ma didn'a like no dirty talk 'round 'er, she did, an then 'e says, "Our owd man tol' me so, yeh wee little shite, s' a fact!" "Oooh," I says, cause that were a pretty big secret f' a wee lad like mesel' to be trusted wi', "Our ma, she's pretty lovey wi' our dad, d'yeh _think that they_..." Then Billy pours a bucket a shite on me boots 'cause speak a' the devil here comes our ma to tell us to stop lallygaggin' an finish all that muckin'!

I wish I'd ha' pestered 'im later that day to get the rest a that lesson - as the day I should ha' got it from me dad, I were bangin' that nasty hoor what smells like fish 'gainst to wall beside 't dustbins, an' she screamin' "Oh _Robbie!_ Oh _Robbie!_" in me ear the whole damned time!

Seh me Jackie leans against me, an' I puts me arm roun' her, "Now pet, I don't know how or why yeh managed to stay whole all this time, yeh bein' seh delicious an' all, but if yeh really want it, Cass'll take on the job, no problem." I kisses her free han' an' then slides it down me belly and into me trousers real slow an' careful, "There's somebody what's been dyin' to meet yeh f' long time. Now don't be shy, and give us a kiss, eh?"

She were a fast learner when it came to undoin' a fella's zip.


	15. Unanswered Questions

**Jackie**

Well, it wasn't as great as they tell you it's supposed to be in _Playgirl_, but I guess it wasn't bad for a first try.

Not that I'm any judge of experience in that direction.

Cass took his sweet time, which I'm grateful for, and he didn't laugh when I fumbled around in the dark with his unfamiliar geography.

I'm even more grateful for that.

So we lay there half asleep afterwards, Cass resting on top, me on bottom, face pressed lightly against the side of my neck, breathing shallowly. He didn't smell half as bad as I remembered.

Right about then I realized that Cass wasn't in his mid-thirties as I'd originally taken him for. Was he really that boy-slim beneath his clothes, or was it just my hands telling me stories in the dark?

"Cass, how old are you, _really_?"

He shifted down my body, laying his head between my breasts, "Old enough." he mumbled sleepily, then, "Mind if we smoke?"

Gee, now he asks! I ran my fingers through his hair, it was thick and soft. I tightened my grip, tugging at it absently. "Only if you sit up and don't spill ash on me."

"Fair 'nuff."

The click-scrape of a lighter, a flare of light that shines red through his ears, he's got his back turned to me so I can't see his eyes. Drag, exhale, lean back against headboard, arm comes' round me, plays with my jaw, shades back on, face looking down at me, teeth concealed, mouth more relaxed than I've ever seen it. "Thanks lass. Better'n dessert, a good smoke is." He kisses my throat languidly in between puffs.

His sunglasses are back on, he's opaque again.

"So, how old are you, _really_. 17? 18?" The building shakes under a fresh blast of wind. Despite the room heater being on "high", cold slithers across my skin, I shiver and pull the faded chenille bedspread over me. "16?"

Cigarette pauses briefly at mouth, long slow drag, exhale, then: "Now that we be askin' personal questions, how old are _yeh_?" Cass pulls the spread over his legs and settles me up against his side. He feels like a furnace.

I yawn, "29, on a good day."

"Seh, I sees yeh don't care to tell me then neither." Inhale, dull orange glow outlines edge of glasses, jaw, flash of teeth, bared to molars, nose, then dies down. He's laughing at me, silently. "Yeh know, there's better thing to be doin' in a blizzard than playin 'truth 'r dare' ." His free hand begins to explore me, slipping down between my thighs, to distract me?

"I get your point." I fend him off, but not for long because I don't want to. Cass's fingers slide in, exploring, "So, where did you and my brother Robbie meet?" My hips rise in response, thighs spreading without my permission, but it feels so good I don't care . He shifts in the twilight gloom of the room so that he's now between my legs. Inhale, the glow lights up his face, leaving the hollows of his eyse dark. I reach out and stroke his cheek as he puts the cigarette aside for a moment and begins to kiss my belly, going ever lower, pausing at my navel to sample it, then ever lower, hand still pleasuring me, sliding in one finger, then two, caressing me from the inside out, slowly moving downward. His hair tickles.

"So where'd you meet Robbie?" My head is going to explode, I dig my fingers into his shoulders to steady the world, trying unsuccessfully not to giggle.

Cass pauses, takes another drag, "Somewhere." Still laughing. Tiny point of cigarette-glow moves to ashtray, goes out. He slides slowly up the length of my body, skin on skin, arm now around my waist, free hand caressing my breasts and throat, hot mouth full of smoke covering mine. I can feel his dick hardening against my leg. He cradles me, burying his face in my butchered hair, and we roll over, I'm on top now, feeling the muscles of his belly and upper thighs shift and roll enticingly between my legs . "Let me show yeh somethin'. Yeh'll like this..."

"Better than the last time?" I start my own kiss, venturing into his mouth with my tongue. His breath tastes of meat and nicotine, bourbon and blood; I wanted more...God his teeth felt sharp. My hands wandered, were all men this velvety-rough underneath their clothes?

We come up for air, "So, you think I'll like this better?" Teasingly I nip at the end of Cass' nose and he snaps back, laughing, "Much better lass, much, much better..."

I gasp as his big knuckled hands guide me down onto his dick. I'm slick this time with semen, but the head of his uncircumcised dick still feels like I'm sliding down onto something the size of a beer can.

I pause, unsure.

"'S all right luv, 's all right," He whispers in my ear, it sounds like he's singing to me, lips tickling me, "It get easier, I promise yeh it will. It always does." Kisses me lingeringly down my throat, "It get's easier...if you let it...houl' on sweet...houl' on...owd Cass wants teh show yeh somethin'..." He takes my thighs and pulls my knees up, and he thrusts his hips up and in. I gasp. It hurts and feels wonderful, better than the last time, "See, pet? Not seh bad now that I'm in all the way," he grips my backside, thrusting in and out, hips working easily. "Oh sweet thing, sweet lass, I could show yeh everything if only you'd let me stay..." We roll over, facing each other, his body moving against mine, in and out, deeper and deeper, slick with sweat, "Hold on, sweet, hold on lass...that's a good girl..." I wrap a leg around Cass and he grips me tight, stiffens, hisses, taking me with him as he climaxes.

Fuck you Paolo, fuck you for everything I ever allowed you to do to me.

* * *

**Well, the story doesn't end here, not really. Will Cass fuck this one up with his usual panache? Will Jackie figure out that she's being had? Will they be able to check out of the hotel without having to pay for the holes Cass punched in the walls? What happens if they run out of booze and smokes before they run out of blizzard? Will either one of them ever make it to St. Louis in one piece? You tell me how you want it to end!**


End file.
